


A Clandestine Expression Of Attachment

by lizzyb261



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, and anne would probably make a good detective just not for, and gilbert is uwuing the entire fic, and rachel is an Agent of Romance except it works out better this time, anne is such a pure dumbass, annesecretsanta, anyway that's not relevant but i never know what to tag anything, awae, don't worry i'll get the spider off now it's pretty cute so probably won't bite me, i think ruby is probably more emotionally aware than anne tbh, marilla is 'i be like idk and be knowing', she's the kind of person who just pops up with random wise insights at the most unexpected times, technically ruby is in this should i add her as a character?? she's so cute i'll add her, wow i just realised there's a spider that's been sitting on my arm this whole time, ~matters of the heart~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzyb261/pseuds/lizzyb261
Summary: https://www.thespruce.com/the-language-of-flowers-watch-what-you-say-1402330this was the website i used for all the flower symbolism stuff, and this was the flower i was describing in the last bit http://flowers-in-world.blogspot.com/2013/11/anemone-flowers.html :) i made this for @hecksinki on tumblr's AWAE secret santa. please kudos/comment if you like my work!
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Rachel Lynde
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	A Clandestine Expression Of Attachment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annewithab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annewithab/gifts).



_“You know Gilbert has a crush on you, right?”_

_“What? No, he doesn’t!”_

It was the day after Anne had hopped a freight car for the first time in her life, and she was feeling endlessly worried. Only, not for having broken the law, but for the infinitely more important matters of the heart. Cole’s glib remark had branded itself on her brain, and his smug smirk as he walked away after deploying such a damning revelation had left Anne reeling. Surely Gilbert couldn’t have a crush on her, right? That was ridiculous. As if he would be the type to moon over anyone, let alone her. Anne was quite sure she knew Gilbert very well, and she thought that if Gilbert were to have a crush on anyone, let alone her, she would know. 

Usually, Anne would go straight to Diana to seek out her advice, but from the knowing glances and sneaky insinuations that she had been receiving recently, Anne could already imagine what Diana would say. Something along the lines of _Well, he’s right, you know_. Anne dearly loved Diana, but she couldn’t bear to tolerate the insufferable sense of not knowing what was right in front of her which was so inevitable when discussing the controversial topic of Gilbert Blythe with her friends. 

Today, however, she was left with her two adoptive parents - Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert. After the whole affair with Matthew’s old beau, Jeannie, Anne had decided that poor Matthew had probably had quite enough of romance, and ought not to be troubled with such matters of the heart - not that they were matters of the heart, of course. Definitely not Anne’s heart. Obviously. 

What Anne rather suspected instead, was that Gilbert had some sort of plan. He had been sending her several glances and smiles in the past few weeks and had been maddeningly friendly for no apparent reason, not to mention brushing off Ruby whenever Anne tried to bring her up in conversation. Cole and Diana must have confused this for romantic feelings, but Anne was not going to be deluded. Gilbert was up to something, and she was going to find out what.

Anne nodded to herself decisively as she strode with purpose towards Green Gables. Marilla’s advice was the only solution. Anne knew that she was practical and would have a clear-headed point of view, and would listen to what Anne had to say. 

“Marilla!” She yelled as she wiped her boots on the doormat and leaned inside the doorframe. “I need to talk to you!” 

“Quiet down, I can hear you,” Marilla said gruffly from somewhere out of sight. “Come help me with the pies.”

Anne found Marilla in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, glaring at the oven. “What’s the matter?” She asked, hoping Marilla wouldn’t want cooking advice. There was certainly nothing helpful Anne could give in that department. 

“Grab the sugar for me, please. And the flour, if you will. They’re in the cupboard somewhere,” Marilla said distractedly, now glaring at a bowl of fruit. 

“Could I ask for your thoughts on something?” Anne asked hopefully as she dug around the pantry cupboard for the flour and sugar. “Aha! Here you go.”

“Much obliged,” Marilla said, taking it from her hands. “I’ve got to start the blasted pastry all over again because it didn’t turn out right the first time, and I’d already put all the ingredients away while it was cooking. Did you say you needed advice? What’s all this about?”

Anne took a seat at the table. “Well, you see, there’s a problem… sort of a boy problem - not that it involves boys!” She said hurriedly when Marilla’s eyebrows raised. “Well, it involves one boy, but not like that, of course, I wouldn’t dally around with boys -”

“Get to the point, Anne,” Marilla said firmly, but with a hint of consideration. “Is this about young Gilbert Blythe?”

Anne jumped out of her seat as if she’d been scalded. “What are you talking about?! How did you know? Did Diana talk to you?”

Marilla sighed. “I suppose that’s a yes. Sit down, child, you’re far too excited today.” She gestured to the seat again. Anne sat, still feeling a little sullen. She wasn’t that predictable. Marilla must’ve guessed. Geographically, it made sense, because Gilbert was one of the closest boys living near her, excluding Jerry because Jerry was annoying. And Gilbert was a good family friend and someone whom Marilla and Matthew quite liked, so it probably had nothing to do with Anne’s personal feelings. Of which there were none, she mentally reminded herself. She was brought out of her internal monologue by the clearing of Marilla’s throat. Her eyebrows had raised again. 

“So what’s the problem, Anne?” Marilla said gently. 

Anne huffed. “Well... Gilbert’s been particularly sneaky lately. Two days ago, he had the audacity to claim that I’d done my algebra solution wrong when we were in class and offered to help me do it correctly. I didn't need help! I would have figured out my own mistake anyway. It was ridiculous. I had done it wrong, it turned out, but my mathematical skills are perfectly adequate and then Diana said he’d only pointed it out as an excuse to talk to me, which was just absurd. I don’t understand boys at all. And yesterday, he snuck up on me when I was -” Anne cut off her rant nervously, realising that it was probably not in her best interest to inform Marilla of yesterday’s slightly illegal activities. She chewed her lower lip. 

Marilla hummed for a moment in contemplation. “Yes, you always have argued with Gilbert a whole lot. Couldn’t you two try to be more agreeable, to get along? It can’t be that hard.”

Anne scrunched up her nose. “It most certainly can, Marilla. He’s up to something, I know it. He’s been looking at me very suspiciously the last few days, and I can’t think what on earth he’s doing. I can’t just become more friendly with him when he’s behaving so strangely.”

Marilla smiled in amusement inwardly. “Don’t worry about whatever he’s supposedly up to, Anne. It surely isn’t as complicated as you’re making it out to be, and in any case, I think you’ll find it’s less of a dastardly plot than you’re imagining. In fact, I need more eggs. I’ve spent the last ones from our chickens on this pie, it’s been an absolute nuisance. Go fetch some from the Blythe house, please.”

Anne sat up in surprise and slight indignance. “Wait, I have to talk to Gilbert today? Now?” 

Marilla nodded encouragingly. “Come on. Just be nice to him and get an egg or two for me, there’s a dear. Off you go!”

“Marilla!” Anne pouted. “I can’t go now, my dress is grubby and my hair looks terrible and my shoes don’t look nice -” 

Marilla cut her off. “Anne,” she said sternly. “Go.” Anne frowned but eventually relented. “Oh, and don’t worry too much about any of it. You’re only young, and it’s just a few eggs.”

Anne nodded and closed the door with a last word of farewell, although she privately thought that it seemed like a great deal more than a few eggs. She, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, was on a mission, like a detective. Yes, that sounded much more glorious and dramatic than walking to Gilbert’s house to figure out what he was up to. She took a deep breath and sneezed quite loudly. Two geese in a nearby pond quacked and flew away. Anne decided that this was a good omen because geese were very bothersome. She was quite certain that her journey would now not be impeded by anything except perhaps the wild distractions of her own imagination. 

Anne trudged along to the Blythe house glumly, with all the airs of a conflicted teenager trying to imitate an Austen-esque romantic heroine. It was a bitingly cold winter’s afternoon, and the jacket she was wearing seemed hardly sufficient to protect her from the cold winds. She thought it was rather unromantic that the weather should be so horrid, and grumbled to herself as she walked. Anne hurried along and tried to rub some warmth into her arms, but without much success. Once she got to the farm, she found Bash, working on the repairs for a fence. He waved at her cheerfully and directed her to Gilbert, who was up to his arms in the dirt on the other side of the field, apparently attempting to make a garden. 

“Hello, Anne!” Gilbert called, waving at her with a beatific smile on his face. “How are you? Your hair looks especially lovely today.” He was wearing dark green overalls with a hat shading his face, even from the weak sun. 

Anne blinked and felt her cheeks warm up slightly. She was entirely unprepared to be at the receiving end of such enthusiasm. “Er - thanks. I’m fine, I suppose. And how are you?”

“I’m doing really well, actually,” Gilbert said brightly. “I’ve been working on this garden. The dirt’s really fertile, so I’ve been planting all kinds of things - daffodils, gardenias, sunflowers. Would you like one?”

“Oh!” Anne exclaimed, quite overcome with an emotion she didn’t know the name of. “I - yes please, I would like one very much. Maybe the sunflower?”

“Of course!” Gilbert said, handing her one immediately. “I only put the seeds in a few weeks ago, so they’re not fully grown - they usually take about three months, but they can get up to twelve feet tall, can you imagine? They’ve grown ridiculously fast, but at least you’ll be able to fit it in a vase… that is, if you were going to put it in a vase, which you don’t have to...” Gilbert trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. 

Anne handled the stem of the large yellow flower, twirling it around between her fingers. It looked beautiful, she thought. She looked back to Gilbert. He was gazing at her with his lips pressed together. It was then that she realised she’d forgotten to thank him. 

“Oh! I - thank you! It looks lovely,” She blurted awkwardly, her cheeks warming up again. How rude of her, and after he’d just given her a lovely flower. She had to distract him somehow. 

“By the way, Marilla was wondering if we could take a couple of your eggs? She’s trying to make a pie, but we ran out of eggs and you have eggs, so…” Anne trailed off. 

“Sure, I’ll go get some,” Gilbert said, smiling again. He was smiling so much today. Something really good must have happened to cheer him up so much, Anne thought. Or perhaps he was planning something, and that was why he was being like this. She frowned slightly at Gilbert’s back as he walked towards the chicken coop. 

An idea was forming in Anne’s head. Last week, Ruby had been talking at no end about flowers, and how they had some romantic coded language in which it was possible for lovers to communicate. 

_“Oh Anne, don’t you think it would be so delightfully sweet? To have a young man asking for your hand, or telling you how much he loved you through a beautiful bouquet! They can mean all sorts of things, you know…” Ruby said dreamily._

_She leaned in towards Anne, as if in rapture. “Don’t you think it would be so nice if Gilbert did something like that? I bet he’d look marvellous in a gardener’s hat,” she murmured quietly, more to herself than to Anne. They watched Gilbert on the other side of the classroom, and Anne found herself reluctantly agreeing with Ruby about the hat._

Most of it had bored Anne dreadfully, until she had considered that she could make it a plot point for one of her thrilling stories later, with the clues for a murder being revealed in the hidden meanings of the flowers. Perhaps Gilbert had been listening in on Ruby’s soliloquy and had taken a similar sort of idea from it, that he could grow and send flowers to whoever he had romantic feelings for. That was it! Anne felt infinitely more satisfied with herself. That was what Gilbert was doing. There was no practical purpose to growing flowers on a farm, and he’d only started in the last few days, so he must have heard Ruby and started doing it for someone else! 

Anne stared at the flower patch thoughtfully. There were several there, most of which she couldn’t name besides the few obvious ones, like sunflowers and the daffodils. Anne had always been partial to yellow flowers. She briefly contemplated that there seemed to be quite a lot of yellow flowers in the little garden, before dismissing the thought as a coincidence. 

Gilbert came back, puffing air from his cheeks slightly as if he had been running. Anne could see his breath as he exhaled, crystallising in the cold air and curling into itself before vanishing into mist. Gilbert was carrying a large hat and a basket of eggs. 

“Here you go!” He thrust the basket at her as he approached. There were really several more eggs than was strictly necessary to make a single pie, but Anne bowed her head in thanks and took it with an admirable lack of insinuating remarks. 

“I also thought you might be cold,” Gilbert added, handing the hat to her. “You can keep it if you want. Next time you go out in the cold, though, you might want to think about bringing a warmer jacket,” Gilbert said, grinning at Anne as he gestured to the thin jacket she was wearing. Anne pursed her lips at his mild scolding but took the hat anyway, because even her strong will couldn’t stand this awful weather. 

She took the hat and bundled up her hair in it so that it covered her entire head. “Thank you again, really. And I wish you luck with your new garden!” 

“Thanks! I really hope it goes well,” Gilbert said, murmuring the last part as if he was talking about something else entirely. Anne started the walk home with total obliviousness and an undeniable satisfaction in the hat on her head and the flower in her hand. 

Meanwhile, a curious Rachel Lynde watched with gleaming eyes as a girl too far off in the distance for her to identify bounded away gleefully from the Blythe house. She was certainly going to have to talk to Marilla. 

~~~

When Anne got home, she hid the flower under her bed so that neither Marilla nor Matthew could see it. It wasn’t that she was hiding anything from them, per se - after all, it was just a flower, and flowers didn’t mean anything. But the thought of showing the beautiful sunflower to either of them made something inside of her squirm in displeasure. The flower was hers, and for as long as she could she was going to keep it as something only she knew about. Anne trailed her fingers across the soft petals and thought about how glorious sunflowers were. Really, they were the best of all flowers ever. Certainly the most romantic, not to mention the sweetest and best-smelling - 

“Anne!” Marilla’s shout interrupted Anne’s train of thought and broke her out of her trance. “Rachel Lynde is here, I hope you’ll come down and say hello to her!” The tone of voice left no negotiation. Anne sprung upright and placed the sunflower delicately back under her bed, stroking the petals and giving it a longing glance before she scampered down the stairs to greet Mrs Lynde. 

Mrs Lynde had already sat herself down at the table and was clutching her handbag when Anne entered the room. Marilla was fussing about with the pie and Anne greeted Mrs Lynde warmly and with a little anticipation. Rachel Lynde was unofficially known as the town’s queen of gossip, and one of the benefits of having Marilla be her close friend was that Anne got to hear all the over-dramatic details fresh off the press before word of mouth could travel to everyone else in Avonlea. 

“Marilla,” Rachel began, “I knew I had to come right away. I got over here as soon as I could, for the most extraordinary thing has happened -” Anne gasped in suspense. 

“Oh Mrs Lynde, do tell us. I imagine it’s the most exciting event that will ever grace Avonlea,” Anne implored. 

Marilla frowned at her in disapproval. “Anne, you needn’t hear such things. I’m sure whatever rumour is spreading around is surely untrue, and Rachel, you mustn’t influence Anne like this. Her imagination is already hyperactive enough.”

Mrs Lynde laughed. “Oh, Marilla, there’s not a drop of fun in you, is there?” She leaned in towards Anne conspiratorially. Anne copied her, and they shared a knowing grin underneath Marilla’s reproachful gaze. 

“Only a few moments ago, I saw the most mysterious girl leaving the Blythe establishment,” Rachel began, and Anne felt like her feet had dropped out from underneath her. 

“The - the Blythe house? As in, Gilbert?”

Mrs Lynde laughed. “Why, do you know any other Blythes? Of course Gilbert! I saw him with a beautiful woman holding dozens of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said, pressing a gloved hand to her heart and sighing wistfully. “They looked ever so in love. Of course, I can’t think who on earth the girl was, she was too far away for me to see her face, but she’s got to be new in Avonlea. Gilbert Blythe has a new mystery beau!”

Anne’s mouth dropped open. That couldn’t be true, she was sure. She must’ve barely left Gilbert’s house when this apparently beautiful mystery girl had arrived. And Gilbert had only given her one flower, not a dozen. Gilbert couldn’t have a beau - she would know! She was his friend, he would have told her! Anne dearly wished that she had seen this mysterious girl so that she could shake her by the shoulders and demand to know what on earth she was doing fraternising with her good friend, Gilbert Blythe. Anne’s eyebrows creased like a piece of cloth that had been scrunched up so much it could never be smoothed out. 

Marilla noticed Anne’s frown. “Are you alright, Anne?” She asked, concern bleeding into her voice. 

“I think -” Anne felt like her head was spinning. “I think I need to go to my room and have a quick lie down,” she said hurriedly, before getting up and dashing from the room. 

She heard Marilla’s tutting. “Really Rachel, you fill that girl’s head with such nonsense. I wonder that she believes half the things you say, you embellish everything so.”

“Even you’ve got to admit, Marilla, it’s all wonderfully romantic,” Mrs Lynde replied cheekily. 

Anne shut her door to drown out their voices and stared at the flower under her bed. What was the point of it anyway, if Gilbert was clearly going to give flowers to any girl who went to his house? Clearly it didn’t mean anything. She sighed and flopped onto the bed, turning her face into the pillow so that the flower remained safely outside her vision. 

So. Gilbert had a new beau. That much was evident from Mrs Lynde’s eager moment of gossip. Anne wondered what the elusive lady was like. To attract such a person as Gilbert, her character had to be truly interesting. Anne presumed that she was a beautiful and intelligent woman, because only then would she be able to capture Gilbert’s attention. Anne was sure that Gilbert would only have the most faithful and true love for anyone. He didn’t seem like the fickle type. So this girl, whoever she was, had probably been in his interest for some time. Anne sighed quietly and squeezed her eyes shut. Why did thinking about Gilbert and this girl make her feel so… uncomfortable? It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Perhaps it was like her womanly cycles, something that happened regularly when a young girl was contemplating the existence of boys, and it was a natural physical response from her body that couldn’t be stopped. It was probably nothing more than that. 

Perhaps all would resolve itself if she merely declined to involve herself in any contact with other people for the next day or so. At the present time, total seclusion sounded remarkably appealing. Anne nodded to herself and determined to go to sleep with the hopes that somehow, all the problems of today would no longer be there tomorrow. 

Anne exhaled and curled up under the blankets, listening to the sweet tunes of birdsong outside her window and succumbing to dreams about the hearts and hopes of young girls and boys. 

~~~

The next day brought with it fewer resolutions than Anne had hoped. She had slouched her way through school and gone into a fit of alternate rage and despair when, at the lunch break, Gilbert had pulled her aside to sweetly offer her a flower. This time it had been a stalk of a perfectly delightful pink flower that Gilbert said was called gladioli. Anne, too well-bred to refuse, had thought of Marilla and how proud she would be of Anne’s manners before nodding and thanking Gilbert, if a little coldly. Afterwards, she had stuffed the stupid flower into her bag - not squishing it, of course, the flower didn’t deserve to suffer from Anne’s wrath because it was a perfectly lovely thing. However, Anne spent the rest of the day fuming about how Gilbert had the gall to give her flowers when he was supposed to be courting some other woman. How fickle of him! Were all men like this? She reluctantly decided against asking Rachel Lynde, as Mrs Lynde would likely jump at the opportunity to tell Anne about every endeavour she’d ever had with a man, and proceed to give her some advice that would make Marilla’s eyebrows raise high enough to make clouds blush. Anne just had to get through it until Gilbert stopped pestering her with flowers. Surely his attention couldn’t be divided for too long, and he would have to return his gaze to the other lady. 

The next day, Marilla strongly suggested that Anne go back to Gilbert’s house to return the basket and hat, as well as reimburse him and Bash for the eggs they’d been given as their chickens were now caught up and Marilla’s pie had gone splendidly. Off Anne had been sent, armed with a slice of apple pie that she couldn’t find it in herself to refuse because Marilla had been holding a kitchen knife at the time and squinting at her. So Anne had withheld her [many] complaints and brought a very, very thick jumper with her as she walked along to the Blythe house for the second time that week. 

To Anne’s chagrin, she could not find Sebastian anywhere. She looked around the farm and resolved to knock on the door at the risk of seeing Gilbert again, but when he opened it with a smile to rival that of the other day, she was forced to conclude that Bash was out. Gilbert confirmed her suspicions, saying that Bash had gone out to have a day with Mary in Charlottetown and that they wouldn’t be back for a few hours. He then invited Anne to come in and sit down, which, regrettably, she accepted. After all, she had to give him all that Marilla had sent her specifically to give. She set down the pie and was even more dismayed at Gilbert’s visible delight. 

“Really? Did you bring me a pie? Goodness, that’s ever so kind of you,” Gilbert gushed. 

“And is that _apple pie_?” He waited a moment for Anne’s meek nod. “Wow, that’s my favourite!” Anne glared at her hands and did not say that it was her favourite too, because that would be utterly absurd. 

Unfortunately, Gilbert chose that moment to be even more forward than he had been in their previous encounters, and produced yet another flower. 

Anne couldn’t help her sharp gasp. This one was even more beautiful than the sunflower, and looked so horribly delicate and pretty that her insides felt like they were shrivelling up inside her and turning to dust. The flower had a dozen large petals, all fanned out with a shimmering colour fading from pure, clean white in the center to a deep red and then back to white, with the middle patch of white beset by the black stamens and filaments. Its petals fanned out in disgusting artistry, curving just so, with such a glow of beauty and grace that she felt a truer despair than she had ever felt. It was so stunning, and Gilbert was being so nice, and Anne couldn’t stop thinking of the damn sunflower and how it had lit up something warm inside her chest and this horridly beautiful flower was doing the exact same thing and she couldn’t take it anymore. 

Really, this was just nonsense. She had to do something, to put a stop to it. Anne opened her mouth and took a deep breath, preparing to say something cutting and adamant and sharp and demanding along the lines of _Gilbert Blythe, you stupid idiot, you can’t just be so nice like this otherwise I’ll get ideas that I’m not supposed to get because you’re IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER WOMAN YOU IDIOT, and I can’t possibly tolerate another single second of this -_

And then she looked up. 

And Gilbert was looking at her. With that small, infuriating smile that he’d been using whenever he looked at her every time she had seen him in the past few days. The tiny curve, the roguish grin, and the twinkle in his eyes that looked so stupidly _soft_. 

Anne’s breath caught in her chest, and she shut her mouth and looked down to the flower, then back up to Gilbert, then down to the flower again. 

“It’s called an anemone,” Gilbert said earnestly. The way he said it sounded so precious in his mouth, like something magical and wonderful to be treasured. 

Anne blinked at him. Somewhere deep inside her head, a cog turned that had only recently been put there. She thought of Ruby’s fanning herself as she sighed over the romance of flowers, and of Mrs Lynde’s glee when she said that Gilbert Blythe had a mystery beau who was receiving flowers, and Marilla saying that it wasn’t as complicated as she was making it out to be, and she gasped. 

“Wait!” Anne cried. Gilbert’s serenity was broken by his confusion at her outburst. “ _I’m_ the mystery beau! You were giving me flowers! Flowers - symbolism - oh my goodness!”

If anything, Gilbert looked even more confused. “I thought you knew I was giving you flowers?” He looked pointedly at the anemone in his hand. “And what beau are you talking about?” He frowned. “Is someone else courting you?”

Anne gaped at him. “You’ve been doing that this whole time? It was… it was me?” 

Gilbert blinked rapidly, and his face went through some fast emotions that Anne couldn’t decipher. “I asked Marilla if I could - could have her permission to, you know…” He trailed off and rubbed his neck. “If that wasn’t okay, I’m really sorry, I should’ve been more clear.” His eyes were downcast and he pursed his lips. “I - I guess I’ll stop wasting your time.” He turned away. 

Anne made a split decision and grabbed his wrist. “Wait!” She said sharply, and held tightly to his hand. “I do! I mean, if you were, if that was what you meant, then… I would like to have the flower,” she said shyly, ducking her head. 

Gilbert’s mouth parted slightly in surprise, and he gently lifted up her chin so that he could look at her in the eye. “Anne,” he started gently, “Would you please do me the honour of allowing me to court you?”

Anne’s cheeks went beet red, nearly as dark as her hair. “I would like that very much,” she murmured, biting her lip. Gilbert beamed that brilliant smile of his, with that stupidly soft look in his eyes that she should’ve recognised sooner but now would have to be soon enough, and he carefully reached up his hand to cup her cheek, hesitating for a moment to be absolutely sure that this was real. Anne felt like her skin was on fire from where he was touching it, and she held her breath as he leaned in and kissed her. Warmth blossomed in her face and her lips curved up into a smile around his as he intertwined her fingers with his. She pressed her other hand to his chest, still holding onto the flower as the light breeze rippled around them and ruffled her hair. They stood that way for what seemed like forever, afraid that if either of them moved it would shatter the perfect moment like glass. 

The heartbeat of a Mrs Rachel Lynde was going faster than a galloping horse as she gazed with exhilaration at the two lovestruck teenagers kissing across the field. It was about time, she thought with satisfaction. That young Anne Shirley-Cuthbert really had too much romance in her to continue on like this for much longer with Gilbert. She was immensely pleased with herself for the flower suggestion, when Gilbert had confessed that he had feelings for one of his friends but didn’t know how to go about it. Rachel Lynde felt very pleased with herself indeed when the flaming blush on young Anne’s face when Rachel had mentioned certain things. Really, Marilla’s rating of her as a matchmaker was far too modest, Rachel thought. As she trotted away humming pleasantly to herself with the gratification of a job well done, she swore up and down that after this affair, it would be known all throughout Avonlea that Rachel Lynde really was the best matchmaker in the world. 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.thespruce.com/the-language-of-flowers-watch-what-you-say-1402330  
> this was the website i used for all the flower symbolism stuff, and this was the flower i was describing in the last bit http://flowers-in-world.blogspot.com/2013/11/anemone-flowers.html :) i made this for @hecksinki on tumblr's AWAE secret santa. please kudos/comment if you like my work!


End file.
